DeathEaters Discontinued
by facelesspanda
Summary: 20 years later, people have grown, changed... follow the story of whatever characters I want to torture, as they see their world destroyed, and reborn anew.
1. Happy Birthday

**Flash**

A light flickers.

The darkness broken.

"One," the tired voice says, gently. Her long, thin fingers approach the match towards the candle. The wick catches the flames in a small spark.

The smell of chocolate fills the girl with excitement. She has been longing for this.

 **Flash**

"Two," she whispers.

Her fingers are covered in rashes and burns.

The light clones itself once more.

The second pillar lights up, revealing more of the crispy chocolate desert waiting to be cracked open.

 **Flash**

"Three," the voice continues, ever so softly.

Her voice is hoarse, deep and harsh.

Chocolate begins to mix with melted wax and fire in the girl's nose. She wants to blow them. She wants to shatter the surface of the chocolate world. She wants to cut the ritual short. But she knows better than to be hasty.

 **Flash**

"Four," she coughs.

Hurry, hurry, mother. She won't wait much longer. The fire towers of Chocolateland are almost all lit.

The circle is closing.

 **Flash**

The girl doesn't wait for words anymore. She takes a deep breath, and forces the air out of her lungs, blowing the candle, bringing darkness to the world again.

"Happy Birthday, Shiho."

The girl looks around, looking desperately for a mother to hug.

But she's alone. Nobody's there. Only the darkness.

 _Pitch, black, darkness_

She sighs.

The darkness fades in a thick fog. Everything is grey and blurry.

She takes the cloth from her desk and wipes the mist from the glass lens.

"Everything alright?"

She blinks her eye and inspects the other one last time. She does not look at her boyfriend, the abyss of her own iris — false as it is — is far more appealing.

"I never had a proper birthday," she says, still lost in the dark.

He leans on the desk beside her, resting his legs after the long day. "You never had a proper childhood."

Shiho gives her eye a last sweep of cloth. She reaches for her right eyelid and pulls it up. With care, she brings the prosthesis to the hole in her face. While she stares at the mirror, Mitsuhiko looks away.

"I had, though," she says. Her boyfriend looks back. She blinks a few time, rolls her eyes, and looks at him too. "With you guys."

She smiles.

He smiles.

"You know what I mean," he says, leaning towards her.

She stops him with her hand. "I do."

She grabs the lubricant bottle and proceeds to caring to her right eye.

"I don't even _know_ my birthday"—she swipes her oily finger across her cryolite eye—"I know Ai Haibara's, but not mine."

Mitsuhiko chuckles. "What does that mean?"

Shiho gets up, stretches and yawns.

"It means, there is a day I came out of my mother's womb"—she gives him a sorrowful look—"and I don't know when it was."

He turns away and walks to the kitchen. "What's wrong with Ai's?" he asks while opening the fridge.

Shiho gathers the ocular care tools and makes her way to the bathroom. "She is not me."

The young man comes to the bathroom door with a can of fresh beer. The shower starts pouring water.

"Ai Haibara is the girl I fell in love with"—he drinks—"I still love her very much. She's my girlfriend, even."

The water pours louder.

"Except now, she's called Shiho Miyano."

The water stops. "We're not having this conversation again," the woman says from the shower.

The glass pane opens on a tired woman whose eyes say long about her patience.

"Fine," the man says. "What do you want in your rice?"

Shiho silently fetches a towel and without a word, dries herself.

"Ai," she says, "was but a façade, a lie, a mask I wore to hide from—" "I know."—Mitsuhiko walks to her—"I know."

He takes her in his arms. "I know."

"Chazuke," she whispers.

"Chazuke sounds good."

Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya goes back to the kitchen, leaving Shiho alone in the bathroom.

As she finishes drying, she hears him curse in the kitchen. He just realized his clothes were wet. She smiles at the mirror.

"Happy Birthday, Shiho."


	2. Checkmate

_**TICK**_

The land is desolate.

 _ **TOCK**_

The queen, towering over this desert field, cries. Most of her forces have been wiped out.

 _ **TICK**_

Before her stands one small foot soldier. They stand no chance against her mighty power, but she must not be foolish. Greed never pays.

 _ **TOCK**_

Off to the side, a few miles away, a high tower cuts the skyline in two. That is the true threat, for once she attacks the small one, the tower will fire its archers and roll over her, no matter the distance.

 _If she strikes, she dies._

 _ **TICK**_

Far in the distance, another foot soldier. They haven't move since the beginning of battle. Maybe fear stroke them, maybe it's part of the enemy's strategy.

Little did it matter, her king is in danger, she has to act.

 _ **TOCK**_

Retreat is the only optio—"Hey, you playing or what?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The battlefield disappears, leaving in its stead a bicolor board, on which wooden pieces were neatly placed here and there. A poorly shaved man sits in a chair before the chessboard. He blinks as his focus breaks, and looks up to his opponent, a woman ten years his elder, her legs crossed, smiling a wide grin.

"Out of options, Kudo?" she asks with a smirk.

The man scratches his hairy chin. "Kind of, yeah."

He leans forward and moves his queen to F3. "Here, have at me."

The woman sighs and moves her rook to checkmate position. "You didn't sleep last night either, did you."

Shinichi closes his eyes and leans back in his comfy armchair. He doesn't answer.

Masumi looks at his king, only black piece standing on the board.

A moment passes.

Silence.

Masumi gets up and walks to the window. The street was active as always, full of people walking, calling taxis, shopping. The creeps from the building opposite to theirs were still arguing from their balconies. People, ever buzzing like bees in a garden, making honey from blood and sweat.

"I miss her too, you know," she says to herself.

"Don't."

Shinichi crawls out of his velvet lair and drags his feet out of the room.

Masumi shakes her head and slaps her cheek. She has work to do. _They_ have work to do. She brings herself to the study, sits on the desk, and stares at the wall. They had a puzzle to solve.

On the wall hangs a giant cork board, covered with photos, news prints, post-it notes, places and names, all tied to colored strings in a tangled mess. None of it makes sense. Missing persons, gruesome murders, school shootings and mass suicides, all related by nothing but a central key, a central sheet on the board, marked with… a question mark.

The only faintly common link was the lack of any sort of definitive evidence. No traces, not a single one. Never a murder weapon, never a kidnapper trail, never a suicide note…

The distant sound of the toilet flush creeps from the hallway.

"Turn on the TV!" Shinichi shouts from the restroom.

The woman sighs, and replies. "We never hear anythi"—"You never know!" he cuts her.

Reluctantly, Masumi returns to the living space and grabs the remote. The news were, as always, full of nothing. Their puzzle was an invisible one, that even she can't see. Only him.

She wants to trust him. She does.

But what sense does it make?

It could all be coincidences, it could all be unrelated, there's nothing but Shinichi's hunch to drive them to solve this so-told mystery.

Masumi screams as she pulls her own hair from her skull.

"Quiet," Shinichi says, as he returns to the lounge.

He falls back into the armchair and stares at the TV. "Listen."

Masumi lent her attention to the talking screen, displaying a red-framed portrait.

«...an and Shelly Davidson, 16 year old twins, have last been seen at the Springfield Mall on Friday November 23rd, 5pm. If you see these children or hear about them, please call 911 immedia—»

Shinichi turns off the TV.

"Get dressed," he says, sharply. "We're going shopping."


	3. Trailing away

«...arding the events that transpired in Beika last sum—»

 _ **BZZT**_

"I was watching that."

Kogoro Mouri coughed and cursed. "Damn woman."

The man attempts to sit and reach for the remote, but his wife is too far from the bed, and his back hurts too much for more efforts. He gives up and falls back in, if ever he had risen from the bed.

"It's late," Eri says. "Get some sleep."

The man chuckles. And coughs again.

"Sleep," he mumbles. "How can you do that?"

Eri gives a deep, gentle, sigh. Not the tired one she's so often used to, not the angry one she's known for, not the disappointed one she would expect with this man, but the compassion one. She comes closer.

"I know it's hard. It's been hard for the last twenty years."

"I was talking about the pain, Eri."

"Grief is indeed most pai—"

"The _pain_ , Eri," he coughs. "I feel like I'm being eaten from within."

He coughs a little more.

Eri sits near the bed. "You brought this one on yourself, dear."

"Doesn't mean I can't complain about it!"

His voice goes even hoarser, as he coughs as much more.

Eri's patience is, once again, growing thin. "Well if you're gonna waste your energy complaining, you better start saving it. Get sleep!"

She walks out.

The door closes on a tired lonely Kogoro, devoid of any strength. It smelled awful. He always found it weird that clean smelled so bad. How could he get any rest when it stank of scrubs.

"You're wrong, Eri," he thinks to himself. "That's not the pain I'm talking about."

He looks out the window. The trees are dying. As he is.

Eri has not accepted it yet, but he has. He doesn't care about the cough, he doesn't care about the headaches, nor the nausea. He doesn't care about the tumor growing within him.

He cares about her — about leaving her.

Kogoro knows he has made mistakes. He wrecked his own body with alcohol, destroyed his lungs with cigarettes. There is no denying it, he did that to himself.

Accepting it has never been the hard part.

The hard part is the waiting.

Kogoro is on a train leading him to his death, five centimeters per minute, and he has no control over it. He knows that. He is a witness to his own life, as he was many years ago a witness to his own carrier as a PI.

He never had control over anything.

Damned be that kid.

The television off, the only sounds he can hear is the noise of the air conditioner. Loud buzzing in this otherwise silent room. The most annoying fly ever.

Good. That way he can't sleep. And if he can't sleep, he can't not wake up. It's been that way for months, now. For the last ten months, every night was his last.

He doesn't want to die.

Well, he doesn't care about dying. But Eri would. She already lost a child, she shouldn't lose her husband too. It's against the nature of life.

If only he could do something. If only he could fight.

But it's too late. The fighting happened over his whole life, and he lost. Now he just has to wait.


	4. Screw it

"… yes."

… _Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen._ …

"The headaches are gone, thanks."

… _Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one._ …

"He's better too."

… _Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven._ …

"He's had a whole meal yesterday."

… _Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four._ …

"Yes, I know. We miss you too."

… _Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty._ …

Hidden behind towers of papers, Genta Kojima is bent over his desk, focused on his twenty-first student of the week.

"The Tsuburayas say hi," Ayumi says, coming from the hallway.

"That's nice of them," he says, though he doesn't sound like he means it.

… _Forty-one. Forty-two._ ...

"We should go and visit them some time," Ayumi suggests as she approaches the desk. "It'd be good."

 _Forty three_. Done.

Genta sighs, leans back and stretches with a yawn.

"I say," he grumbles. "They should come, for once."

He stands up. That kid's mark's going to wait, he can't focus anymore. He needs a drink.

Ayumi leans against the wall and smiles at him. "I'd like that."

"Right?"—Genta leans beside her—"I'm not making you travel like this anyway."

Ayumi chuckles. She looks down and places her hands on her big belly. She smiles even wider.

"Yeah," she says. "It'd be quite a pain."

The man gives her a kiss on the cheek and turns away. He still needs a drink. He walks to the kitchen, takes a glass from the cupboard, and looks at the fridge.

He stays there staring for a second at the smile that sweet woman drew on the door, then frowns, then pours tap water into the glass.

"Do you hate her?" he hears from his office.

Does he? Does he hate that lying untrusting woman? Does he despise how she used them as cover against the authorities? Does he abhor her wearing a fake face and name, pretending she was someone she was not? Does he?

No. No, he does not.

But does he trust her? Does he know for sure that she is now who she says she is? Does he know for sure that the mask is off, the lie over? Does he trust that no more bad surprises are bound to happen? Does he?

No. No, he does not.

The time of the dead bodies is over. The time of the danger is past. The time of the pain is done. Finished.

He wants to believe that.

But he simply is not sure. He doesn't know. With _her_ , there's no knowing. One can only guess and hope to be right. Same goes for _him_.

"No," he replies, before gulping down the water.

He puts the glass down and goes back to the office. Ayumi is leaning over the desk, reading.

"This poor child," she whispers. "How stupid can one be?"

"Hey," Genta snaps.

Ayumi looks back up.

"Show some respect."—he joins her behind the desk and sits—"Mayoi works hard, alright?"

"Sorry. I didn't think—"

"—I cared?" he cuts sharply.

"Oh come on that's not fair!" Ayumi replies. "Let me finish my sentence at least!"

Genta goes back to work, without a word.

Silent too, Ayumi sighs and leaves the room.

Mayoi gets a 16. He's gonna have to talk to her about fractions and irrational numbers again.

What a dumb school. Dumb country. Kids need to understand the world, yet school asks them to know shit. Had he understood what he understood a few years ago, school would have been far more pleasant, and easy. He wants to help kids _understand_.

Ayumi doesn't understand how hard it is.

Yet he doesn't understand how hard it is for her either.

Genta sighs.

 _Screw this._

He gets up, leaves the room, walks down the hallway, and opens the bathroom door. Ayumi is lying in the tub.

"Hey, cutie," he says, his voice failing at sounding calm and soothing. "I… I think I'm..."

It's hard.

"I think I'm..."

He's struggling. How hard can it be to say the word? He clenches his fists and teeth.

"I think I'm…"

The taste of vomit comes up in his mouth. The buzzing noise of the cleaner pops into his mind, sustained by the rhythm of the electrocardiogram's beeping. He remembers the pain.

"… _hungry_."

There. Said it.

Ayumi opens her eyes and jaw wide and large. She displays the greatest smile.

"I'll be right there."

It was unclear whether her face was wet from the bath or not.


	5. Hat of Truth

A murmur spreads alongside them as they walk down the street. Eyes come and go, looking away before staring again. Whispers and giggles snake across the crowded walkways of downtown Springfield.

"They do _not_ like your hat," Masumi says, looking around.

Preposterous. Everyone loves this hat. This hat is the very symbol of the human intellect. This hat is the messenger of truth. This hat is the one and only hat worth wearing.

The sliding glass doors open, they go in.

"Wow!" Masumi lets out, surprised by the sheer height of the space. "That's a hell of a room!"

The entirety of the mall is spread out over a multitude of floors, all of which are visible from down here at the doors. There must be around 15 stories. Light comes from every wall, as giant glass panes cover most of each one. This mall feels like a small outdoors commercial district during summer.

Shinichi looks around and finds the information desk. The clerk is a young brunette not much over eighteen, with short hair and tan skin. She's playing with her phone, not paying attention to any of what's happening in the giant hall. He nudges his partner with his elbow and directs his chin towards her.

"Ah, right," she says. "Missing twins."

As they approach, Shinichi is able to read the girl's badge.

 _Sofia_.

Closer up, Shinichi notices her heavy make-up, particularly around the eyes. Her uniform's sleeves seem roughly shifted, and one wrist button is undone: she got dressed in a hurry.

Nothing to worry to much about.

"Hello, missy," he says as he comes to the counter. "We have some questions."

As soon as she heard someone address her, she looked up and in the span of a wink, she put down her phone and displayed a large dishonest commercial smile.

"How would I be of service?" she asks, trying her best not to stare at Shinichi's hat.

Masumi steps in and screws her elbows on the counter. She gives Sofia a piercing gaze.

"You heard about the Davidsons?" she asks bluntly.

Sofia blinks a few time, genuinely confused.

"The missing twins," Masumi insists.

The clerk still looks at her with unsure eyes.

"I'm sorry, I do not understand. Do you require any information?"

Shinichi sighs. "We're looking to help the police do their job, we want to investigate the disappearance of the Davidson twins."

She looks at him dumbfounded, not really knowing what to say.

"We're asking you—" he starts, before Masumi cuts him. "—We're asking you if you happen to know where exactly the kids were last seen."

Sofia looks confused. She looks around a bit, and leans towards them. When she speaks, it's much lower than before, almost a whisper.

"I'm really sorry, but I don't understand what you're asking of me. The police is working on this, they'll have much more information to give than I would. Why ask me and not them? You're making me feel very uncomfortable here."

Masumi giggles. Shinichi lets out a deep sigh of disappointment. "Look..."

He explains her the fundamental flaws of the local police work, how they always overlook important details and rely too much on testimonies and not enough on evidence, how they never really care about missing people because they never knew how to look for people and always ask for the public to do their job for them, and why *he* wants to actually find the kids by looking at clues wherever he can, and why she should stop hiding the truth from the public.

Meanwhile, Masumi looks around, awing here and there in front of the stores.

Once he is done, Sofia looks at him with the eyes of a scared lab rat.

"Hey, all I know is their friends last saw them somewhere in the teen clothing area on the 5th floor."

Shinichi slaps the counter. "That's more like it! Thanks!"

He darts off, grabs Masumi's arm, and runs up the stairs.

"Hey!" his partner shouts. "Elevators exist, you know!"

 _Five floors later._

Masumi drops on all four, breathing like a pregnant mule.

"I'm... too old... for this," she sighs in between huge breaths.

Shinichi stands beside her and looks around. "Okay, teen clothing, where are you?"

"Go ahead," the exhausted mule says, painfully as Shinichi starts wandering. "I'll catch up." — She tries to push on her arms to get back up, and falls on her tired butt — "I need to... catch my breath... first."

The first section of the floor was mainly girly accessories like jewels and other piercings. Shinichi didn't know if this qualified as clothing. Further down the aisle lied groups of small vegan or biologic food and pharmacy shops. Finally, some clothing boutiques. These kids have gone through these shops, they must have left _some_ impact.

Shinichi enters the first one. Bunch of jeans with holes, faded colors, or very slim sleeves. The active clerk is a young man with really short blond hair and a ring hanging from his right ear. There's also an older woman — still younger than him — folding some pants to put on their shelves. Very few clients roam around the store. Two of them are at the desk waiting to check out.

He approaches the kid at the counter. David seemed like a calm fellow, while focused on his interaction with his clients, he notices Shinichi and politely says, "I'll be with you in a moment, sir. Do feel free to look around in the meanwhile."

Shinichi nods and stands near the entrance, not showing the slightest sign of curiosity towards the store's offers. He doesn't really like waiting, but he also doesn't like to make wild guesses. From the twin's photos from the M.P.A., they must be around fourteen, it would make sense for them to be on this floor, but there are too many stores here to make a guess as to who's going to have information, so there's no other choice than to ask.

"Excuse me, Mister Shinichi Kudo?" asks a deep voice just beside him.

"What? I'm busy." Shinichi asks, bluntly, in his usual non-caring way.

A tall man, whose muscle work is very much apparent, is towering just at his side. Just too late, he noticed the white letters on his jacket spelling « **SECURITY** »

"I'm going to need you to follow me, sir."

 _What?_


	6. Far Away

Pain.

Pain can be good. Pain can help sort out the harmful from the benign. Pain can be a key vector to a being's survival. Touch fire? It burns, it hurts, don't do it again. Eat the wrong berries, belly aches, it hurts: not again.

Pain is a tool exploited by many helpless organisms to ensure survival. The thorns of roses sting. So do bees' darts, or formic acid. Weird looking frogs burn the tongue if you try to eat them: don't. People leave you alone and isolated if you act like a jerk, it hurts: don't be a dick.

Pain is the purest form of truth in this world. One may doubt the reality around them. One may think they are dreaming, or computed by a simulation. One may be experiencing traumatic hallucinations or road-tripping to psychedelic wonderlands. But pain hurts.

Pain is never meaningless. It's always there to tell us something.

You can always trust pain.

 _ **THUMP**_

 **«FUCK!»**

Jumping on one foot, holding the other, Mitsuhiko was shouting at his wooden bed frame, cursing with words he was never known for.

"You okay up there?" Shiho shouts from downstairs. "Don't die now, I'd be late!"

He did not hear. He's busy swearing at his bed, looking for some socks to put on. Who put this bed here, he wonders. Seriously, this hurts. Is it bad?

He sits on the bed and takes a look at his toe. It's mildly red, slightly swollen, but otherwise shows no blood or other serious symptom. It hurts though.

So, socks.

He's already found one, but its sister is nowhere to be seen. This is frustrating. Mitsuhiko prides himself in his organization and management skills. How could he lose a single sock?

"Hey! Seriously, you okay?" he hears coming from the stairs.

"Yeah, I..." he answers, almost absent. "I just hit my toe, I'm fine."

Hell, this will drive him nuts if he focuses on it. Lost socks will wait. He opens the sock drawer and picks up a nicely fold pair of soft warm black socks and puts them on.

"You almost had me worried," Shiho says when he comes down the stairs. She's fully clothed, with coat, scarf and all. "Hurry."

She hands him his coat, he puts it on and they head out in the autumn cold.

The walk to the station is pretty quiet and uneventful. Good. It gives him time to think about Ayumi and Genta. He thinks about the reason of their invitation. Last he heard, Ayumi was pregnant so it would make sense that they wouldn't come see them, but why specifically ask them to come? He comes with theories about them feeling unloved and left out, about their couple crumbling and them feeling a social gathering with friends would help, about them having bought a dog and wanting to surprise him and Shiho. He thinks about dogs, and how he may like having a dog, but how expansive it would be. He thinks about their bank counselor and her annoying voice, and her intense lack of memory. He thinks about his own memory and his past. He remembers the first time he saw little Ai enter the classroom. He remember his confession, and her rejection. He remembers the moment she told him the truth, about her, about Conan. He remembers Ayumi and Genta's face when they learned everything. He thinks about how odd it feels coming full circle in a train of thoughts.

The station is rather empty, as usual. Thankfully, they aren't late — though not much early either. Train's announced to arrive in about two minutes from now. Perks of living in a remote area, there's no crowded line when you're late. Going back to Beika is going to feel weird. Oh, by the way...

"I'm actually surprised you agreed," he says, abruptly. "I'd thought you'd say no to this trip."

She looks at the tracks, where the train will come. Her hair waves in the wind like the ocean under the sunset. The timid skin of her neck barely visible through the wool of her scarf. Makes you want to gently press your lips against it. Her cheek is slightly red from the cold, making her look like blushing. This woman suddenly seems much more beautiful and mysterious than ever before.

She stays silent a moment.

"Yeah," she says, finally. "Me too."

Suddenly, he doesn't even remember why they went to live here. It's so far away from everything. From everyone.

Maybe it was because of that. Maybe they wanted to be on their own together, away from the buzz of the mindless masses, away from the pressure of society, away from anything remotely tied to being part of this great human clockwork.

Maybe also it was to feel less crammed.

Train's coming.

 _ **KSHHHHHH**_

Brakes spit and crash, breaking the silence with a sledgehammer. Doors go by, one after the other, until one stops right in front of them. The door opens on the little white inter-wagon platform. Mitsuhiko climbs in, and opens the panel to the seats area. But it's not the seats area. There are no seats in this corridor. It's a white hexagonal tunnel with nothing but lights and walls!

"What?"

Blinking doesn't fix the issue.

"Do you see this?"

He looks back at Shiho—

"What?!"

No Shiho.

No white inter-wagon platform.

No train.

He's in a bright white hallway, without any window.

Where is that?

Where is he? Where is Shiho?! What is happening?

 _ **BEEEEEP**_

Loud noise.

 _ **BEEEEEP**_

Is that an alarm?

 _ **BEEEEEP**_

"What's going on?!" a man shouts in English from one end of the hallway.

"Where are you going?" he hears a woman say from the other end.

"I think I heard someone," another man answers.

Mitsuhiko stays quiet and still. What the hell is going on here? This is no train.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Mitsuhiko turns around to the loud voice behind him. A man floats in mid-air at the end of the hallway, wearing a working overall with a very recognizable logo.

N A S A


	7. How can I help?

Ayumi stops her scrubbing.

"What do you mean, «gone»?"

High-pitched, panicked noises come out of the phone. Ai tries to calmly explain something about Mitsuhiko suddenly vanishing. Sounds like they searched the whole train...

"Erm, did you try his phone?" Ayumi asks politely.

Screams and shouts. Wrong question. They tried everything that could make sense. But why is she calling _her_ right now?

"What help can I be, from here? Have you called the p— erm, authorities?"

Wrong input, again.

The more she tries to help, the more it feels she's making things worse.

 _Oh._

Ayumi knows what help she can be. Ai doesn't need help finding her boyfriend. She needs help calming down.

"It's gonna be okay," she says. "I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is."

Shiho hangs up.

Well that was a failure.

"What's happening?" Genta asks, leaning against the wall.

Ayumi stays silent a few seconds, holding her phone in her hand, clenching her fist around it, as if to crush it, while thoughts, memories, and ideas are gearing together at a dazzling speed in her brain. What could make Ai feel so panicked? Mitsuhiko gone missing? That's a tough situation, but why panic? Ai never panics, Ai always thinks about the probabilities, and the possibilities, and the consequences. She would simply do what she needs to do to get him back, without any need to panic, so why? Something felt wrong about this. First off, what does vanishing mean, here? He was there and then he was not? He was in the train and then he was not? Could he be on the train somewhere? Could he have gotten off without her knowing? If none of these, where would he be?

What is happening here?

 _Wait..._

There is another possibility.

 _Is Ai putting up an act to avoid refusing an invitation?_

"Do it."

 _Huh?_

Genta walks to her and grabs her shoulders.

"Why the hell are you hesitating?"

 _Huh?!_

"Look. I don't know what she told you. I don't know what happened. But that face of yours right now, I don't like it. You're losing trust. And you can't lose trust."

 _Huh?_

"What?" Ayumi asks.

"I know I don't trust her. But you do. And I like her, though I may not look like it. She needs to trust you right now. Do it."

Ayumi sighs.

 _beep. beeboop. beep._

She puts her thumb over the call button.

"Oh by the way," Genta interrupts.

Ayumi looks at him with question marks in her eyes. He picks up the rubber gloves.

"Go get some rest."

Ayumi smiles.

«110, what is your emergency?»


	8. The seventh passenger

Bright white.

 _ **KSHHH**_

 _Breathe_.

Light is near blinding.

 _ **KSHHH**_

 _Calm_.

She follows the tether. She's done this, she knows what to do.

 _ **KSHHH**_

 _Don't look up_.

She's just changing a camera, no biggie.

 _ **KSHHH**_

 _Almost there_.

She holds dear to each bar on the ladder as she floats along. She keeps her eyes on the hull. She follows the tether.

 _ **KRST**_

«Hey.»

The radio in the helmet spits noise. A voice that came to be familiar comes out. In front of her on their path is her colleague and partner.

 _ **KRST**_

The radio turns on again. «Where do you think Earth is?»

Up ahead, already at the panel, Yana is looking around leisurely.

She's not going to do the same.

 _ **KRST**_

«Far away. I don't know.»

She really doesn't. And though she would like to help look for it, she knows she'd feel nauseous looking out. It's too far to see anyway.

 _Don't look up_.

Oh how Japan would look tiny from here.

 _ **KRST**_

«Alright,» she says. «Let's do this.»

Yana turns back to the panel and pulls the floating toolbox to her.

It's always fascinating how this toolbox is attached to every tool in it. It makes total sense, you don't want any of those loose in orbit, but it's a sight. What strange things human beings build.

She takes one of the largest flat screwdrivers, pulls on its string, and starts unscrewing the panel.

 _ **KRST**_

«You don't like the outside,» her Russian friend notices over the radio, while preparing the hooks and shackles to prevent the old cam to float away.

She's focused on her screws, but still answers.

 _ **KRST**_

«I do like it. But I'm afraid if I look at it, I'll get sucked out by it.»

The screws are loosened, panel is unlocked. She opens the lid, uncovering the camera inside. Yana approaches the clipper to hook the thing. As she turns around and looks up to the ground, she speaks

 _ **KRST**_

«I get what you mean,» she says. «It scares me too sometimes.» — she hooks the camera — «It kind of looks like a giant abyss into hell, from here.»

Now to unscrew the broken camera.

 _ **KRST**_

«Makes you want to jump into it.»

 _ **KRST**_

«Hey girls please finish your job before leaving okay?»

Hideo's voice comes out of the coms. His jokes are always welcome, especially when she's spacewalking. He always takes her fears and turns them around. He takes her stressful thoughts and says them like they don't make sense. This gives her confidence.

 _ **KRST**_

«No way,» Yana replies. «I'm unbuckling right now.» — she brings the new camera closer.

Camera's unscrewed. She moves the screwing hinges to let it go. Now, to fit the new one in there, replace the hinges, and screw them back in.

She likes these space-safe systems. You screw and unscrew like any other thing on Earth, but all the screws are locked in, so you never lose them under your furniture. Or, well, in the void of space. It's like they are made especially for her: worry about the screwing, not about the screws.

 _Hehe, screwing_.

Now that's something that doesn't happen often around here. It could. Nobody's sure if it should, though. Yet nobody's sure why it shouldn't. Well, that's what she thinks at least. Maybe the others are going at it right now. And she's here putting bits of plastic in other bits of plastic, doing actual work.

The rest of the job happens in silence. Once the camera is replaced, they move over to one of the antennas to replace it too. The silence is only disrupted when they are all done and heading back.

«Erm, okay, girls?» Hideo calls over the radio.

«What is it?» she asks.

«Before you go in, you have to be warned: something weird is happening in here. Please do not panic.»

This doesn't sound like a joke. This is Hideo being serious.

Yana and she exchange a worried look, and hurry back to the hatch.

«Incoming,» they warn as they start opening the heavy door.

The process strangely feels much longer than usual. What is happening behind that door, they wonder. What would be so unusual that it deserves a "no panic" warning? From outside they see no foreign danger incoming — well Yana doesn't see anything — and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with the station.

What is it?

The hatch open, they can see everyone gathered behind the glass pane of the inner door.

 _ **KRST**_

«What's happening?»

The guys behind the door are busy talking. The lack of air around the two girls prevents them from hearing anything. They close the hatch and start pressurizing.

«Guys?»

They look stressed. Something against the wall next to the door looks to be the center of attention. They're arguing. This is worrisome.

The more air fills the room, the more they can hear sounds of voices.

Orlov is spinning in fetal position further down the hallway, thinking. Hideo is lying against the wall with his eyes closed. The Americans are the one doing the arguing. Sound is coming back.

"…anic and hurt people I had no choice!" Rob shouts.

"How do you think he'll react waking up like that?!" Susan asks on the same tone.

"At least he won't harm anyone!"

"The more you shout at each other," Hideo says, his eyes still closed, "the less you learn about him."

 _ **kssssshhhhh**_

The door opens.

There, strapped to the wall, lies a man, clearly Japanese, in his thirties, wearing wool and cotton based winter clothes. His face looks awfully familiar. She can't really place it though. Where has she seen this man? Who is he?

Wait that's not the important question.

"How did he get here?" Yana asks, while removing her suit.

"That's the strange bit," Susan answers. "He'd have to have stayed hidden for the last three months if he had hitched the last shuffle."

"That makes no sense."

"Exactly," confirms Rob.

"How did you find him?" The Japanese woman asks.

"I heard some noise in the connector," says Rob. "I went to check, and there he was. When he saw me he started screaming, so I knocked him out with the fire extinguisher."

"In the connector you say?" Yana asks. "Is there any way to hide there?"

"We pass there all day," Susan refutes. "No way."

"Have you checked his ID?" — "Did you find any belongings?" — "Have you checked his pockets?" — "Why isn't he quarantined?"

Yana launches question after question towards the crew. Before anyone can give any answer, though, the man grumbles.

"Where am I?" he mumbles, in Japanese.

"What did he say?" asks Rob.

The self-proclaimed screwing master kneels beside him.

"He might be dangerous," warn the others.

He doesn't look dangerous though.

She speaks to him in their common mother tongue.

"Hi. Are you okay?"

He nods. Well he moves his head in what looks like a nod.

"I feel dizzy," he says, still mumbling. "Wha— what happened to me?"

"The dizziness is normal. Rob here hit you on the head, plus you're in zero-g space. Bad mix if you ask me."

"Zero-g?" he asks, confused.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

The others watch, whispering to each other in English, obviously wondering what is being said. Hideo is doing a low-volume live translation.

"I don't really know…" he says, his voice becoming sore.

She turns to Orlov. "Can we get some water for the lad?"

Orlov gives her an unsure look. He goes and seeks Yana's approval. She nods, and he floats away.

"Try your best. How did you come here?" the woman asks to the unknown man.

"I don't even know where here is. I was in… the train! and then I was here…"

Orlov comes back with a single floating bubble and a straw. She looks at him with reprobation. He could have brought packaged fluid rather than a bubble. The poor man doesn't seem to even realize he's in space. Making him drink floating water's gonna need extra effort.

"Here," she says, as she places the straw in his mouth, and pushes the bubble against the other end of it. "Drink."

"Train?" wonders Rob. "Does he mean the shuffle?"

The man slurps the bubble easily. Drinking looks like it's always instinctively easy.

"I think he means an actual train," ponders Hideo.

After his sip, the man suddenly wakes up as if he was sleeping until now. He realizes he's strapped down, he looks around with anguish, and starts to breathe really heavily. He tries to ask question, but his panic really doesn't make them intelligible.

She puts her hands on his cheek and immobilize his head.

"Hey hey hey! Look at me look at me."

The man's eyes continue to roll everywhere. He starts suffocating. The others behind exchange words of worry.

"Breathe. Look at me."

He calms down a little. She tries her best to stay calm herself. Now that she looks at him up close, she realizes his face does indeed ring a bell. _But which one?_

"What's your name, sir?"

"Mi— Mitsuhiko," he stutters.

 _Huh?_

"Alright, Mister Mitsuhiko, sir. Can you tell me your full name?"

This seems to be working. Focusing on who he is diverts him from _where_ he is. He answers.

"Tsuburaya. Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya."

 _DING!_

Silence.

The station falls quiet.

The only sounds anyone can hear is the low-key mumbling of the air and water recycler.

Hideo did not need to translate this one. Everyone clearly heard this name. They recognized it because they know it.

All the looks were turned to the Japanese woman, who doesn't find herself to be able to speak, suddenly.

The man looks at them all, confused.

"It's not—" Hideo starts, interrupted by her.

"—It's just a name, Hideo," she says in Japanese. "Pure coincidence, that's it."

Their confused John Doe, calmed down, blinks.

"So — where am I?"

She shakes her head and slaps her cheek, then shakes her head again.

"Mars Base Camp," Hideo answers him. "Roughly three hundred million kilometers from Earth"

His eyes go round.

"Mars?" he asks.

The crew nods as one person.

"Since when is there people around Mars?"

This is getting weirder by the minute. Why is he more surprised by the Mars mission than his presence here? Does he actually remember something?

"Where did you think you were?" Yana asks, curious.

He looks at her with the same curious eyes as hers.

"Once I understood I was in space, I thought this was the ISS."

He sounds really unsure about his own words.

"The ISS?!" Orlov interjects. "The program's been closed for ages!"

"This is MBC expedition 36, man," Rob says. "On Earth it should be around the end of 2054."

The passenger's eyes end their journey out of his head. He coughs.

"2050?" He manages to ask.

"4. 54." Rob corrects.

The man looks at the Japanese astronaut, as if she's going to laugh it off and say it's all a joke. It's not, though. It is the year 2054. This station has been orbiting Mars for around twenty years.

"You guys are kidding right? Last time I checked I was with Shiho on the train to Beika on November 1st—"

"Shiho?" the astronaut asks.

 _No._

"— 2017."

 _No, that's not possible._

"What the hell?" Susan swears.

 _No no no no no no no no no._

"Fuckin' joker," Rob chuckles.

 _It has to be a joke right? That's too much of a coincidence. Can't be a coincidence._

"I have the ticket."

 _Can't be the truth either. There's no way that's him. This is some dream I'm gonna wake up from. I'm gonna wake up and I'm gonna have to change that camera again._

"Shit this guy's right!"

"What the fuck?"

"Can't be."

The others' words are less and less audible as she plunges her eyes into the man's. As she sees her reflection in his pupils and iris, she remembers. Somewhere deep inside her memory. Hidden from long ago. Forgotten.

Akemi remembers.

 _Dad?_


	9. Stars and Atoms

**SLAM!**

The phone hurts the desk with an echoing sound. One could swear they saw the windows shake, as if the giant eye of a monster would soon appear behind them.

The office is brightly lit, the sun is high and bright, the weather is perfectly fit to feel great.

Yet the world just collapsed.

Through the glass pane of the door, Kana, her arms full of folders and files, can very well see how dark it really is in there. She hates these moments. She hates the world in these moments. These moments remind her that she is powerless, that, no matter how hard she wants to help, she sometimes can not.

Her friend, colleague, and direct superior, Eri Mouri, has always been of the working kind. She has never stopped making efforts, and never shown signs of weakness, not since Kana's known her. But these past few months have taken a toll on the poor woman. It shouldn't be a surprise. Anyone in her stead would take some time off to care about what, and who, truly matters. But not Eri. Eri wants to work.

 **KNOCK KNOCK**

Eri takes a deep breath. Kana almost saw her wipe tears, but it really could be anything. It has to be anything else, otherwise she'd cry herself too. She has to be strong, and show no sign of affect. If Eri thinks her behavior is affecting her colleagues' work she'd hate herself.

"Yes?" she hears say from inside.

Kana takes a deep breath too, opens the door, and enters.

She informs Eri about the appointments she had to make, the amendments to the schedule, and other things work-related. Anything that would distract her from her personal life, really.

Everything goes smoothly, Eri seems to be holding up, focusing more and more on the cases. Kana was both glad and scared that she could still be efficient in such times.

With the importantly trivial matters discussed, Kana takes her leave. Before she can open the door, though, Eri asks her: 

"Say, Kana." — she's looking out the window, pensive. She stays silent.

"Yes, Mrs. Mouri?"

A few more seconds of silence later, Eri sighs.

"Nevermind. Thanks for the good work."

Kana hesitantly bows, and opens the door.

"Do you value life?"

The question came from the desk behind her. Kana turns around, to see Eri, still staring at the window. She stumbles a bit, but manages to find some unsatisfying answer.

"I do."

Eri stands up, and goes to the window. Kana closes the door. This looks like a time where work will have to wait. She slowly walks over to the window, next to Eri. The city is very active, as all days.

"Do you value wishes, Kana?"

This was a strange question.

"I wouldn't be working here if I didn't, Mrs Mouri."

"I would assume you also value the law." 

The buzzing of the city slowly leaves its place to the throbbing of Kana's heart. She wasn't sure where this was going.

"I do."

Eri opens the window. The wind is chilling. A single sweat drop runs along Kana's back.

"I'm glad I chose this path, you know," Eri says. "this whole job, this whole idea of being a lawyer, in the end it's about balancing lives, wishes, and the law."

A bird flies by.

"I've come to understand why thieves have stolen, why murderers have murdered, why kidnappers have taken away... it's never easy, it's never simple, and this time is not any different."

Was it job-related in the end?

"What case are we talking about?" Kana asks.

"I denied it."

Yeah, no, it's definitely personal. Kana looks silently at the birds flying over the neighboring building. They look so carefree.

"I wanted to believe he could get better. I wanted to believe I could do some research, make phone calls, and find a satisfying outcome, like I do every time."

Three pigeons seem to be having an active conversation over there.

"You can't find loop holes in the laws of the universe, though. Even if I was corrupt, even if the world was corrupt, I couldn't even bribe my way out of this one, Kana. I realize this now."

Do pigeons have a language? What could they be saying?

"I am to wait here, passively. I am to trust the experts that they do what they can, and accept that it isn't enough."

The birds settle down a bit, but seem to mutter to each other like gossip girls.

"What am I going to do, Kana?"

The three birds are joined by more pigeons.

"I'm losing this. I'm losing him... He's facing a trial I can't get him out of."

How many birds can get together and stay silent? What the...

"I can't help him, Kana..."

 _Are they... looking this way?_

"I can't help him..." Eri repeats, with a trembling voice. Kana, for the first time during this conversation, looks at her friend. Eri's cheeks are already wet. Kana steps towards her, as Eri starts to actually sob. She embraces her.

A burst of wind blows through the window, as a flock of birds fly towards them and enter the room. The cold embrace of the wind tucks them both in a cocoon, abnormally swirling around them like a micro-typhoon.

Light.

Electrons jumping.

Atoms splitting.

Cells dividing.

Krill. Anglerfish.

Deep oceans.

Tuna.

Beach. Sand. Humans lazing around. Foxes running away. Wind blowing.

Cities.

Endless deserts.

Luxurious forests.

Cold mountains, regions dying, countries changing continents moving planetsdriftingstarscollid—

"I believe we are done, now, Kana?"

 _Huh?_

Kana is sitting in the chair, confused. She's looking around. Her eyes meet Master Mouri's, who raises an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?" she asks.

 _What the ..._

Kana looks around some more. She looks at the window. Intensely.

"Kana?"

Kana shakes her head. She must have been really tired. What were they talking about? Oh, right! The murder of Fumiko Hanamoto.

The rest of the day passes by, and work gets done.

That night, when Kana, in her bed, turned off her bedroom lights, she couldn't shake the feeling that a bird was staring at her from the window. Her dreams were full of cosmic storms and atoms splitting and merging.


	10. Invisible Crowds

The doors of the elevator open with a sigh. The sigh may have been Masumi as she was thinking about what she just learned, though. Or rather, what she has not learned.

She walks out and, hands in pockets, makes her way step after step to the security office.

Her steps echo in the crowded halls of the mall. How could someone just disappear leaving absolutely no trace? That bathroom had absolutely no other exit point than the one door... even the vents were too smalls for rats. Are the witnesses lying? She would have to bring Shinichi to them to know if they lie or not. Assuming they did, there's no lead. The kids could have just... gone. Left on their own, went somewhere, hid. Like any careful runaway.  
She herself has done the running and hiding thing for a while at some point... she knows how easy it is to do mistakes. But she would actually need the resources of the FBI or something to track credit cards usages, security cam— hold on, good thing she's headed for the security office.

 _Let's just hope the madman already thought about that._

She's getting old. The cameras should have been their first reflex.

"Hey! Watch it, bitch!"

 _Oh, right..._

There's people around. There's actually a lot of people. Oh boy that's a crowd alright! You'd lose anyone in there!

 _... No..._

They've been looking at this wrong from the start. Don't start where they were last seen, it's useless. Start where they _should_ have been last seen: the exits. If they could— "I said watch it!"

A man, not half older than her, is trying to maintain the balance of his ka— _kart? Where am I?_

Back to reality. Quick look around: supermarket section. 

_I went too far!_

She turns back and turns where she should have done so three minutes ago. The security door opens at this moment and Shinichi is there, with his now eternally frowning brows. 

"Could you bargain for a look at the cameras?" she asks, directly, not caring at all for why he was brought here.

He shrugs. "Didn't need to, he wanted me to look at something for him."

 _Oh._

Shinichi apparently had to check the footage to make sure that the security guard's daughter wasn't being stalked or something.  
She's the same age as the twins and some of the other missing kids, so his worry is relatable. As for the twins, they were not on the footage. They were seen entering the bathrooms, and never came out. Nobody ever came out with carts or anything that could hide them, alive or not. ... in one piece or more. 

Masumi also shares her own non-findings with the guy.

"There has to be some way out of those toilets," he argues.

She agrees. If the one way in and out was fairly watched and didn't give anything, then they must have gone through somewhere else.

As they are approaching the main entrance hall, Shinichi stops them to pretend looking at a map. He must have seen something worth hiding from.

"The guard," he whispers. "He also told me he was actually called to me by the front office."

Masumi quietly nods as she points to the west-end fast-food shop.

"We're going to approach that Sofia girl, and I'd very much like you let me do the talking."

Masumi nods again, and with a shrug, she backed up from the map and stretched arms.

She starts a pretend small-talk dialogue with Shinichi, but it ends up being a monologue. Shinichi very soon waves at the clerk, who's still playing with her phone.

"Hey Sofia!" he says, loudly.

The girl doesn't leave her phone. After a good ten seconds, she seems to realize someone is there, looks up, and pretty much like before, puts down the phone in a hurry and smiles like a mannequin.

"How would I be of service?" she asks, trying her best not to stare at Shinichi's hat.

 _Odd._

Masumi winks a bit. Shinichi leans his head.

"Where's Sofia?" he asks.

The name on the girl's badge read « Gloria, » which is a really strange thing as that girl is exactly the same as the Sofia from before. She looks at Shinichi like he's speaking Chinese.

"Who's Sofia?" she says, with the unintelligible low voice of a disinterested person.

Masumi is really tempted to just answer "you", but she bites her lip and lets Shinichi say "She's the clerk who was here just two hours ago, she has dark skin, neatly brushed short dark hair... she looks a lot like you actually!"

She stands there, half asleep, for a moment.

"So whaddya want?" she asks, giving up on any formality.

Shinichi shrugs. "I wanted to thank Sofia for pointing us out in the right direction, but if she's not here, well... we're just going to go."

They leave the build—"Wait!"

Masumi turns around. The girl is at her desk, holding a desk phone, covering it with her hand. She's looking at them with an intensely curious eye. "I... I think it's for you."

A phone call for them? What happened? And where?

When they approach, Sofi— Gloria, she hands the phone to Shinichi.

He shrugs, takes it, brings it to his ears, and listens.

The mall hall is very bright indeed. This almost looks like a temple. Masumi chuckles at the thought that, you could call it that, if money were a god. The front wall is basically a giant mesh of glass panes, some of which are colored, which gives the air and atmosphere an awesome feel of cosmical wonder. Humans did this. Humans built this. Humans created this beautiful money temple. Humans always create majestic temples to the ideas they worship. It is saddening, though, to think that the Parthenon is in ruins, and she's standing here at the entrance of the dollar cathedral. Saddening, but not depressing. Things die, ideas change. You can't appreciate getting stuck somewhere on a feeble branch when the current of the stream is flowi— **SLAM!**

The crowd startles out with a short scream. A huge sound just came from the front desk. Masumi's old reflexes kick in, and she runs over to see if everyone's alright. Shinichi is trembling. The phone is on the ground behind the counter.

"Okay," she says. "Let's go." 

The kid is not moving.

She grabs Shinichi's shoulder.

"Let's go home."


	11. Lonely

It is 2018. It is estimated that there are around 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stars in the observable universe. « Observable Universe » is a scary phrase referring to the tiny part of the universe that has once emitted some light that ended up reaching earth. « Tiny » here is actually a dramatic emphasis to perturb the reader in a way they are familiar with. There are actually no clue regarding how much bigger the actual universe is... how much more stuff is in it.

Imagine that you, earth person, become the sole survivor of a planet-wise cataclysm. Somehow, everybody else dies, except you. You visit all corners of the earth, you find nobody. You find a way to travel through space, and visit all planets of the galaxy, you find nobody. You visit all planets of all galaxies of all clusters of the universe, you find nobody.

What you would be then, besides some sort of immortal being, is « alone. »

How you would feel then, besides a lot of confusion due to not understanding how you've lived for so long, is « lonely. »

To further emphasize the concept, imagine that, instead of finding nobody on every planet you visit, you would find a whole population of very kind and nice people, but they die very soon after your arrival. It becomes a pattern: every time you are around people, they die. Would you keep going? Would you seek company? Would you decide that being alone is better for everyone? But is it better for you? Regardless of your choice, they would all die when you arrive. That would definitely lead to a certain « loneliness. »

« Lonely » would be the perfect word to describe how Shiho is feeling right now as she crosses the bridge she has grown to enjoy crossing with a certain someone. A certain someone whose location is, as of now, totally unknown to her. The facts are that, to tell the truth, this certain someone is currently not even on Earth — if such a bold statement as to tell the whole truth were to be allowed, one could say they do not even exist.

Shiho walks home, alone, with an empty head. She has played and replayed the scene over and over. She has gone through every step, second after second. She remembers clearly: he was there, she looked away for half a second, then he was not.

How does that happen? How does a man vanish? How does a person simply cease to be there?

Questions have found their way in her mind, grinding her gears, for the last three hours, and she has given up on finding satisfying answers.

 _It just doesn't make sense._

How can something make so little sense? There has always been perfectly understandable reasonings behind every event, ever. The rules of the universe don't just change, like that, with a snap.

 _It's impossible._

That is the conclusion Shiho had reached, and now she's not even trying anymore. You don't try to solve an impossible case. She thought she was done with cases. She thought she was done with people disappearing. She thought she was done with all of this.

Well, _it_ will never be done with her.

The day goes by very, _very_ slowly. The police calls her, asks her questions. The neighbors are a bit nosy too. The world pretends to care, the world pretends to help, but it can't. She can't, so _they_ can't. Because it simply doesn't make sense. At some point, _they_ understand it's too strange to be true, so _they_ think she's lying.

But she knows she's not lying. She knows what she saw, she knows what she felt, she knows what she knew, what she knows.

Or does she?

Could it be that she has been lying? Could it be that she lied to herself? Could it be that Mitsuhiko was not in the train? Could it be that Mitsuhiko didn't make the walk with her? Could it be that Mitsuhiko has never been in this house? Could it be that Mitsuhiko never dated her? Could it be she never really called Ayumi? Could it be that Shiho has not been in the real world all this time? Could it be that it was all a dream? Could it be that she was in a coma? Could it be?

 _Could it?_

Shiho doesn't know. Not anymore.

The very same evening, the doorbell rings. _Who could it be?_

A silly thought runs through her mind, as she opens the door. One of those silly thoughts you have from time to time, and shake off before a second even passed. "If this was an episodic story," she thought, "this would be one hell of a cliff hanger."

And then she opens the door to a young child, not older than ten, wearing a red hoodie over their face, who says, with a strangely grave voice:

"We have to talk."


	12. Ulu

"Who are you?"

The kid doesn't answer. Hi... Her... _It_ s voice is still off-puttingly low for a child. There's also this weird feeling that it's not just one single voice... it sounds like another person is talking at the same time, but it could very well be that Shiho is tired.

"We can talk here if you want. However, we had reckoned _humans_ liked to invite guests to enter when they want to talk."

Shiho is taken aback. This really doesn't sound like a child at all. Would it be ... ?

 _Would it?_

"You can also tell us to fuck off and shut the door to our face, like any other _human_ did before you, but we'd prefer you didn't, for we have much to discuss."

"Who are you?" Shiho asks again.

The little red hood looks up, revealing the bottom part of ... _its_ face. If this is a child, it's not a human child, or a very strangely sick one. The skin is of an odd dark purpley color, very different from any earthly skin tone. When it speaks, the mouth opens very wide, revealing a long row of sharp teeth.

 _What is this._

"Fair point," _it_ says. "we wouldn't let a stranger into our home either. You do well to be cautious and mistrusting. We commend you. You are a commendable _human_ being."

A second passes.

"Our name is Ulu," _it_ says. "We need to talk."

Shiho makes her mind. A strange thing happened earlier today, so why not listen to this other strange thing that wants to happen right now? It would just be a strange day, and then she would wake up and start the actual normal day, and take the train to Beika, and everything would be fine. She opens the door and lets _it_ in.

"We see..." Ulu nods. "So this is the inside of a _human_ 's house."

The small creature has not removed _it_ s hood yet. _It_ walks into the living room, admiring the lack of taste of the wallpaper. _It_ sits on the couch, where Shiho pointed when she offered _it_ to « have a seat. »

"Should I get you something to drink?" Shiho asks.

"How thoughtful of you. Or rather, « polite » should we say. Human rituals and needs do not affect us, you need not bother yourself, and us, with formalities nor worry about our internal moisture. Let's talk."

Shiho sits down in the armchair.

"I'm listening."

Ulu removes _it_ s hood. _It_ definitely isn't human. Shiho starts to be very curious about this creature. _It_ s face looks humanoid, with two eyes, a nose and a mouth, but _it_ has a pair of small horns, no visible ears, and eyes too big to be human. Also, purple skin.

"You know what stories are. Right, _human_?"

 _It_ speaks the word « human » with a grave emphasis, as if it was an insult. Shiho nods silently.

"We are very fond of stories, we like them a lot. Some might say we love them. « Cherish, » « adore, » « enshrine, » « treasure, » « worship, » would all be valid verbs describing our unidirectional relationship with stories, and yes that was us literally looking up synonyms in a dictionary. You might wonder why we came to you at a time like this, with little to no introduction, on the very third worst day of your life. This would be an appropriate reaction, and we commend your suspicion — no, your patience. Did we just came out here to ramble like an old vegetative _human_ in need of recognition? Maybe. But we also have a story to tell, and before we tell it, we appreciate the idea of defining the notion. So, _human_ , would you know what stories are?"

Shiho blinks. The creature does not wait for an answer.

"Stories are what we like to think of as windows to different worlds. It might be the future of one's very own universe, it might be its past. It might be a totally different universe with totally different laws of physics and morals and ethics. It might be real, it might not. But it's a window to another world. Movies show you images, so you can imagine the position of an actual window where the camera is. And you're watching through it. But what we love most are textual stories, tales told near the fire place, books read in the train, gossips and rumors running through a crowd... Why? Because the window becomes a door. See, when a movie shows you images, your little _human_ brain fixates on that, takes it as a continuous flow of events it has to parse and interpret and it gets worked up trying to understand why the man is taller than the woman and why the tree is closer than the tin can and why you can hear music in the void of space and why the worlds shakes so much as soon as two people are fighting and why the car that was here now is over there and why and why and why and why and you don't get a rest! Poor _human_. Read a book instead. A reader is free from the shackles of its eyes, from the chains around its ears, from the prison of time. You can turn pages either way, you can read ahead and go back, you can visit the story like you visit a world, with the flick of a finger, understanding the situation with the glance of an eye instead of waiting for the action to take place. What we enjoy doing is entering the stories we read. This chapter may be about this poor lonesome widow, but you can think about what's happening to her pregnant friend, to her old secret buddy, to that old man in his hospital bed, or to her daughter far into the future. The cool part is, you don't have to press pause, you just have to let yourself drift. If you don't understand something, you can read it again, it only takes a glance. Ah, how we treasure stories like those. Now, _human_ , every story needs a beginning. We shall let you be its author. Tell us about your... train incident."

Shiho blinks again.

"Well, I have no idea how it happened." Mitsuhiko would shake his head if he could. "If I didn't get here by any possible physical way, then I just appeared, right? Wouldn't it be the only other way?"

Akemi crosses her arms. "Would it?"

Hideo shrugs again. "The corridor _is_ a junction between two modules, it should be sealed but if you _really_ wanted to, you could undo the joints on the outside, open the junction, enter, and not be able to close it again from the inside, and that's ignoring the void sucking out all the oxygen, and multiple other things that didn't happen, so... yeah, no getting in from the outside. My guts tell me this apparition story is strangely believable."

Akemi brings her nails to her mouth. "It makes no sense."

"It does if teleportation is a thing." Hideo shrugs a lot.

"The time travel would kind of explain it," Mitsuhiko says. "If some person from the far future came to 2017, kidnapped me and left me here in 2054, it would make _some sense_."

Akemi shakes her head. "Nobody took you."

Mitsuhiko raises an eye. "Would you know?"

Hideo coughs. "I'm gonna give you two some time to work that one out."

Akemi's shoulders start to shake. Mitsuhiko feels confused, and quite frankly a little scared.

"I never met my father," she says, hesitant.

"He's not coming back," Ulu says, bringing two fingers to _it_ s temple.

Shiho's eyes open wide, and blood runs through her body, allowing for a fight or flight response — minus the flight. She grabs the nearest object, which happens to be the television remote controller, and runs to the small creature. She grabs _it_ by the hoodie and brings _it_ to the ground where she presses the remote against _it_ s th— where is _it_?

"This is not an enjoyable conversation," the imp says, from absolutely not where _it_ was just before.

 _How did it—?_

Ulu is lying on the ceiling, chilling with _it_ s arms under — over? — _it_ s head.

"We said we wanted to talk."

Shiho drops the remote. How is this thing just resting on the ceiling like _it_ 's the floor. It's not even like she sticks to it: _it_ s clothes are _falling up_!

"We want to talk. Do you plan on listening?"

Shiho lies down. She's not really able to comprehend what's happening. She's lying down, and maybe she's gonna fall asleep, and maybe she's gonna wake up.

"Will you listen?"

"Listen to what?" Shiho asks, still uncertain.

"Will you listen to the sad story of a selfish japanese woman?"

Akemi is almost sobbing. Mitsuhiko feels more and more uneasy.

"If it helps you feel better, I will."

 _How is this helpful to our case, though?_

"My father was already long gone when I was born. He wasn't there when my mother gave birth, and he was never there after that. I asked many questions about him to my mother, and she would tell me all sorts of stories. So many, truly, that I would think half of them were lies. I loved my mother very much, and I knew that she loved my father very much. She never told me that he left on his own, that he abandoned us, that he ran away or anything of the sort. I believed that. When I asked why he was gone, she would always tell me that, someday, I could ask him myself. I didn't believe that."

Mitsuhiko swallows his saliva. He's starting to sweat.

 _What is this about?_

"It's about your boyfriend," Ulu spits. "He's gone. Poofed. Disappeared. Into the sky. He's—" – "Is he dead?"

"No, he's in space right now — well, much later in fact. He's—" – "What do you mean?"

"Let us finish, you degenerate disrespectful _human_! He's fine. He's just not here. And he won't be. At least not for a good while. He might come back, though. Once. Maybe. That's up to you. It's up to him. And it's up to your daughter."

 _I don't have a kid._

"You will have a child. Maybe. That's up to you. It's up to him. And it's up to your daughter."

 _This doesn't make sense._

"It does if you know the full story," Ulu reacts, reading her thoughts.

"What's the full story?"

"The full story is way too long to tell, but in a few words, my father disappeared, as if he was spirited away."

Akemi brings a water bubble to her mouth.

"Nobody really understood what happened, and actually very few people cared to try and understand. A man went missing, and that was about it. But my mother cared. She wanted to know, she wanted to understand, she wanted to unravel the truth and find my father. She never found him, sadly. She never stopped looking though. Long as I can remember, she was looking for y— him. The very evening my father disappeared, she received the visit of what she described me as a fairy."

"A fairy?" Mitsuhiko raises another eyebrow.

"I stopped believing this story a long long time ago, but it's coming back to me. The fairy said to my mother: « in around forty years, sometime around then, your daughter will be very far away, pioneer to another world, and she will meet the man you seek. She might help him if she can, she might be as useless as you are. That's up to you, and it's up to her. All you can do is wait, and have faith."

Shiho sits up. Tears are running down her cheeks.

"I would say I feel sorry for you, but I really don't. I am but a storyteller, I can't feel sorry. It would ruin my delivering of the story. I'll just say I understand the pain you feel, without feeling it myself, if that is of any comfort to you though I doubt it is. It may make things worse, actually. I don't really care. Again, I just tell the story."

The imp comes down to the floor, and snaps its fingers. A small wooden box appears on the floor just in front of Shiho.

"I thought it was a gift from you," Akemi says, actually crying, now. "She told me it was for you, but I really didn't believe I would see you again, how could I? It was just some story... So I tried opening it when she turned her back, and it never opened. I treasured it for years... turning eighteen, I thought I'd force it open. It never opened, still."

Akemi swipes her wrist on her wet eyes.

"I'm leaving you to your crying."

Ulu walks to the door. Shiho looks up to the purple imp. _It_ puts his hoodie back on.

"Good luck," _it_ says, with a shrug.

Shiho looks back down.

 _Huh?_

"Where's the box?"

"Back on Earth," Akemi shrugs. "You don't bring useless things on a 30 years long mission to Mars."

Ulu chuckles. Both Mitsuhiko and Akemi let out a startled scream.

"You done goofed, young one," the small purple creature with playful eyes says. "Your mother had faith, and you goofed it."

Hideo comes back in a hurry with panicked eyes. "I heard screaming." Ulu puts a finger in front of its lips. Hideo looks at both of them with round eyes. "You two look like you've seen a bunch of ghosts, are you okay?"

Akemi shrugs. "Yeah, we were getting kind of excited. Could you give us two more minutes?"

"Speaking of minutes, the clock is acting weird. Could you take a look at it when you're done?"

"Sure."

Hideo leaves the _room_ again. Ulu giggles.

"Ah, what a sad story. I was on my way back, I thought 'Hey, how does it end?' and you tell me you left the box on Earth‽ I cry."

"Who are you?" Mitsuhiko asks.

"I already answered that question, scroll up."

 _What?_

"Anyway, I was just passing by, sorry for the disturbance. Good luck to you guys. I guess you'll need it."

The small horned creature laughs, and poofs. Just like that, it's gone.

Akemi and Mitsuhiko look at each other.

"I guess I believe this fairy story, now..."


	13. Smile

_I don't want to die._

The alarm goes off.

7PM — breakfast time. Yay.

Kaori gets up. She didn't sleep too well, but five hours will be enough for now. A short shower, a few sips of coffee, and she's ready to go.

"See you later!" she says to her empty apartment.

Oops! Almost forgot her lunch box, there!

Riding a bike is never fun, it's always kind of tiring, but it's reliable, it gives some alone time, and it allows for some exercise. It's the one moment in the day when she can be a little active without having to worry for someone else.

Red lights. Green lights. Stop signs. White lines. Blue lines.

BEIKA GENERAL HOSPITAL

 _I don't want to die._

"Good evening, Mae!" she hears as she parks her bike.

"Good work, good night, Minami!" she answers.

Airi is one of these cheerful people who make you smile even when they're saying goodbye. She's the shift just before Kaori's, and she's the reason why Kaori always arrives with a smile. She leaves her bike there and walks up the stairs.

"Good evening, Fujimoto." – "Good evening, Miyasaki!" – "Good evening, Uehara." – "Good evening, Akimoto."

Greetings, welcomes, congratulations. Formulations of politeness and social obligations, mixed in with genuine wishing. Kaori walks down the corridor with her freshly washed uniform, smiling all the way to the central office.

 _I don't want to die._

"How are you today?" Dr Kawazaki asks.

"To be honest, I felt a little tired at first, but riding my bike always pumps me up! How is everybody?"

"Nothing happened today, strangely," he answers. "No new patients, no depar— oh, yes, we did let someone go."

"Did we?"

"Mrs Ishimoto from room 312B. We removed her cysts Thursday. She left this morning."

As they walk up the stairs and greet anyone they meet, the sun slowly hides under the ground.

"That is great news."

"It is indeed."

 _I don't want to die._

"What's the plan for tonight, Doctor?" Kaori asks.

[ 2F | Alley A ]

"First is young Kota Fujihara from 203A's operation. We already sent Miss Horie for anesthesia."

"Shouldn't we be heading for the theatre?"

Dr Kawazaki puts his hand on a door. "We have someone to talk to first." He pushes door 208A open.

Wataru Takagi is a man in his primal golden age. If you asked him, he'd say his best is behind him, but if you asked Doctor Masaru Kawazaki, he'd say that man has yet to really shine. Life only begins when you're forty. If you asked Kaori, she'd say he used to be cute, but now he's beautiful.

 _I don't want to die._

Inspector Takagi is sitting next to the bed of room 208A. On the bed is resting an old friend of his, a man wrapped in too much bandages to see his face. He seems asleep. He's plugged to one of their new fancy IV machines.

Kaori and Dr Kawazaki enter the room. Inspector Takagi gets up, greets them, and bows. They bow too, and approach the bed.

"Has he spoken?" Dr Kawazaki asks while Kaori checks the IV.

"Still fast asleep," the inspector says. "I'll leave him to you."

Dr Kawazaki bows. "Do come back again. We thank you for your work."

Inspector Takagi, on his way out, stops a second to say "if I did my work, this room would have another occupant."

He leaves.

 _I don't want to die._

Kota Fujihara has some nasty clogs in his lungs. Fourteen and coughing blood, poor thing... Kaori's day is always darkened a bit when there are operations involved. She's very fine distributing medicine, taking blood samples and pressure measurements, talking to the patients about everything and anything to make their stay as painless as possible, but every time one of them goes to the theater, she loses her smile. She should keep it, she wants to keep it. But she can't. There's always such a heavy atmosphere in there, reaching even to the outside, it's just impossible to keep a smile on your face.

This operation doesn't require Kaori in the theater, so she's going to talk a bit to the family for now. Kota's parent are... absent, it seems. A young woman and an also young man are waiting in the hallway outside the theater. They're wearing school uniforms. It's 7:30, why are they still wearing uniforms?

 _I don't want to die._

Kaori knows how to approach a worried family. It's easy to make contact: you just have to walk by and they'll jump on you asking questions. Thinking about that a little more, she realizes she knows too little about Kota's condition and state to give any valuable information to them. Best not trigger that, then. She scoots back and walks up the stairs. There has to be sick people who need tending to.

The second floor's nursing office has a big checklist table board thing where is kept in check what needs to be done in the day, some tasks with higher priority than others. Changing bed sheets, changing bandages, readjusting IV doses and fluid tanks... that's not a lot of work, but it has to be done, and that's what Kaori likes best. Being around the patients, doing things for them, while chatting with them.

 _I don't want to die._

The night starts off well. She chats a bit with every patient of the second floor. Kota's operation goes smoothly, he's returned to his room without a hook, still asleep. The young folks waiting for him were the sister and her boyfriend. It was strange to see the sister's boyfriend in here, but apparently, the parents were « too busy » to come or something like that. Kaori would give them a good lecture about family and love. She leaves room 203A to Kota and his sister.

" **HELP!"**

 _I don't want to die._

Somewhere on her right, a voice shouted this one dreadful word she oh so often hears. She runs, like many others, towards 214A, worried about the worse. Sometimes it's a seizure, dealt with immediately. Sometimes it's a crisis leading to an emergency operation. You never know until you're in the room witnessing the events. The shout belongs to Junko, a new young nurse still in learning.

Who was in 214A again?

 _I don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die._

Oh, right.

 _I don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die._

Mr Mouri.

 _I don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die._

 _I don't want to die._

§

A swarm of nurses and doctors rushed in 214A, grasping the situation in a glance. Mr Mouri is suffocating, coughing blood yet seeming to fail to breathe air in. Dr Ogata rushes over to the man, putting his stethoscope to his chest, focusing, while Junko explains the situation to everyone. Soon, they were rushing down the hallway, Mr Mouri unconscious, not breathing, on a stretcher. The Emergency Ward is 4 minutes away. He _should_ be fine, but they have to hurry.

Most personnel has been left on floor 2 to keep working. Kaori is part of the nurses asked to accompany the patient. Why? Why her? Why can't she stay on floor 2 and smile to Kota waking up? Why must she pant and sweat pushing this man down to ER? There's no telling why, life is life and life's a bitch. Just run, give your darn best to save that man and that's it! Dammit Kaori, why do you have to complain about saving people? Just help the poor man, just run just be a nurse and save lives that's what you've always wanted to do, that's what you swore oath to it's a little bit further only a few meters left!

The ER personnel took it from there. Kaori catches her breath. She's worried. She's worried to the bone. His cancer wasn't supposed to be that advanced yet, why did it have to be now? Why does this keep happening?

How could she keep smiling?

"Mae, could you call the wife?" she hears.

 _Oh boy._

§

As Kaori comes out of the bathroom, Junko enters it with tears down her face.

Oh no.

She would go back in and help her go through what ever she's going through, but she has work to do and Junko needs to be alone right now. She's been there too, she knows.

As she enters 208B to change the IV, she hears murmurs and whispers down the hallway. Apparently patient 214A never made it back from ER. As she enters 208B, she looks at Mr Honda, peacefully watching TV, and smiles.


	14. Ran

White. Orange. Purple. Yellow. Blue.

§

When you think about it, it's kind of beautifully ironic. Or poetic, if you prefer to see it that way. All these colors over there vibrate with life, while we sit here wearing black and standing still, quiet. We're desperately trying to make ourselves believe they will be mad if we don't put them somewhere better than us, somewhere they deserve, or even somewhere at all. We're here dressing the color of shadows and nothingness, wearing the livid face of a ghost, as silent as gravestones, putting them in a colorful place where they can chit and chat and sing and dance all they want.

They're not going anywhere. They're not singing, they're not dancing, they're not talking. They're not enveloped in colors or musics or anything. They're not. Not anymore. We are. We are here, we are breathing, we are talking, we are singing and dancing and laughing and crying and everything.

We know it. We don't want it. We want them to share the privilege of all of this. We want them to sing and dance and talk and breathe. Between themselves if not with us. That's why we're in black here, and they're in the land of colors.

We say we show respect. We say we honor them. But, truly, is it respectful to pretend they are in a place they are not? Is it respectful to them to lie to ourselves? To pretend we know all about them? To disguise them?

Maybe it is.

Maybe we don't care and think about ourselves only.

I don't know.

You know, I've never really liked that Takagi guy ever since that day. He may be a good person now, he might even have been then, but whenever I see him, I can't think of anything but ... meh. Here he goes, "great man" here, "loved husband" there, "valuable agent" he says... I can't even remember what was him and what was not. What value did he even have? I know he's your father, but you gotta admit he's only been reliable in a couple tense situations. That I would give you: he'd come flying at your rescue without thinking about anything but you. Then again, he usually wouldn't think that much anyway. As a detective, he was worthless. I think you know that more than anyone, don't you. It's always been the brat.

Now that I think about it, that asshole did a number on me too. Yes, you heard me. I won't take it back, you have no right to play the boyfriend card with me right now. Look where you are. Do you think it's your fault? Do you think it's you losing at this awful game of life? It's him. It's his obsession with danger.

Oh now it's the kid's turn. What is she doing here? She's pregnant, she shouldn't worry about a geezer's corpse. Hey, she's talking about you. She's gonna make your mom cry. Still, she's right: you were the sweetest person around. I guess living with your defect father and taking care of him made you reliable and independent. I wonder what you would have been if he hadn't been that way. Maybe I should feel somewhat grateful, I guess.

Maybe. I don't know.

Yep, your mom's crying. Oh she's going up, now. I wish you could be here. She needs you now. She's all alone, she's lost. Just look at her, up there, facing strangers. People came for him, not so for her. Even that ex-idol actress person is in here, I have no idea why. Did she actually like the guy? Does she feel for your mom? Maybe she's got nowhere else to be. I don't know. I don't really care either. She does what she does.

So yeah, maybe I should listen to her, huh. Maybe I should pay attention. She's saying what everyone expect her to say. That he was a jerk. That he wrecked his own life. That he was irresponsible. That despite all of that she loved him, because deep down he was a great man, and blah blah blah, we all know that. Saying it doesn't change anything.

Wait a minute. Now this is getting interesting. A dream? A storm made of birds, an ocean of stars, a boat made of light, and faceless people talking in reverse... It's a cool setting, Ma'am but what's the story?

"I was standing there, in the blinding light, both failing to hear yet clearly understanding what they said. They were offering my husband back. Please, I said, let him live and redeem himself. If that is in your power, bring him back, whatever the cost! If you have to, take me instead! I screamed. And then I woke up. I took some time to think since I had that dream. I want to take all of it back. Of course I would love for my husband not to be dead. I would much prefer if all of this didn't happen. But am here to say goodbye. I am here to see him off to where he has to go, and accept that he will not come back. Ever. So, yeah. Goodbye, mustache old man. Tell Ran I love her."

Now this is sad. Almost as sad as me being here. Look, I love you, and I respect your father, but you know I'm not here now because of any of you two. I need to be here for the lawyer. And this is the exact reason why. She ends her eulogy with a message to you, not him. How more lonely could she be. You gotta hate seeing her like that too, I bet.

Here we are. Here we are, buzzing around a lump of dead meat devoid of any light. Sharing stories and feelings, as if it changes anything. Your father's gone. You're gone. We're here. We have things to do, life to live. I don't need to be here. I don't want to be here, it's a waste of my time. I'd rather be drinking at a bar with your mother than sitting here wearing black listening to this cheesy hypocritical sadness. I did that for you, by the way, you know. I went to your wake, I stood beside you as you « went up there. » But then I left. I went to drink myself, almost to death, with... well you know who. I came here — I remember, it was here, in this very room — but when I saw you surrounded by all these light and lively colors, and I was here dressed in shadows, like I was supposed to be... I didn't know what I was supposed to be. Sad? What for? If you were going somewhere nice and better than here, why should I be sad? And even then, even if I was sad, wouldn't it be a selfish feeling? « No, stay here. Don't leave me! » and all that. I'm much more willing to let you go where you want to go, cope with my loneliness on my own terms, and show everyone that, you know, it's okay. It's fine. Everything's fine. You're out there, doing you, moving on. And I'm here, doing me, moving on. Would be lying if I said I didn't miss you, I mean look at me talking to you while looking at your old man's coffin. I know you can't hear me, I know can't anything, you're dead. I know that.

I know it.

See, it's like I said. Egoist feelings. I didn't want you to leave so I created a version of you I can still talk to. And I'm fine with that. I don't think it's sad, I don't think it's pitiful or unhealthy. It's just my way to cope internally and keep being functional. It's been twenty years. I've risen to the top. I'm an important member of society, with lots of responsibility weighing on my shoulders, and I don't fail any of them. I'm proud of that. Point is I'm functioning. I'm not broken, I'm not lonely, I'm not sad. I'm living.

You know that.

Look at the sky. It's bright. Winter's here, and the sun shines. Is that a time to be sad? Is this a time to cry and mope? I say no. I want to go take a stroll on the riverbank, have a chat with Catherine, drink some iced tea... But I can't, because I have to watch your father burn, and then go back to work. Ah, what a cruel day.

Fun fact; I'm in the car going to a cremation, and it feels like I'm the one burning. My face itches. Should not have chosen that foundation. My body's changing, I have to keep that in mind. Can't just afford to keep using the same products over and over... Cruel day indeed. O sun, how dare you remind my I'm not a young woman! Cursed be thee!

Okay this is taking ages. I already gave my envelope to your mom, I could go home right now. It's not like your father would hate me for it.

Would you?

§

No you won't, you understand me. Let's go home.

"Hiro." — "Yes, Ma'am?" — "We're going home." — "... Yes, Ma'am."

The black car takes a right turn, breaking from the procession, surely getting lots of side glances from the others. Two minutes later, as it takes another turn, a figure appears before it and it suddenly brakes, failing to not hit that poor person. The woman inside runs out, goes to check how they are and what needs to be done. There, lying on the floor, is a very familiar person, a face she could never forget, and hasn't seen in twenty years. The face of a ghost.

Ran Mouri is alive.


	15. Chasing Ghosts

"Stars."

The chilly wind hussles and fussles in and out of the wide glass door. A tired man, his elbows weighing on the railing, watches the city from his balcony. An even more tired woman comes to his side with two mugs.

"It's like the sky is right there."

The tea is warm. Bitter though. Might as well be coffee. A police siren runs off in the distance. The man reaches out in front of him.

"I feel like I could touch it," he says.

"Who was it?" the woman asks.

A young woman laughs, down in the street. A klaxon horn quacks. Some drunkard shouts swear words.

"Who?" the man says.

"On the phone," she insists. "Who was it?"

The man shrugs. "Wrong number."

The woman looks at him, stays silent for a while. Then looks back at the sky in front of them.

"It's out there," the man whispers. "It's out there, I know it. It has to. Otherwise what's the point?" The wind cries. "What's the point?.."

More bad words come from downstairs.

The woman chugs down some tea. "Well, I'm not sure."

The stars flash and flicker.

"Every morning," she says, "before I open my eyes, I wonder. Where am I? Why should I bother? What is it that's so great that it beats sleeping?"

There's a tower, at the other end of the city, with windows so shiny you don't know if they're lit or simply reflecting other windows.

"And then, I hear you cough, or snore, or get out of the bed, or screaming at me for no reason..." — she nudges him, to which he says he already apologized twice — "and I remember, if I don't look after you, you might do something stupid."

The building in front of them loses a few lights. The man rolls his eyes.

"What do you think I am, a—" "—depressed, sad, lonely man? Yes. That's exactly what I think you are."

Silence.

"Look, my point is, if you were not here needing help, I re—" "—I don't need hel—" "—I really wouldn't know what to do with myself, at this point."

She sighs. She gestures to the people down in the street.

"Look at them. They're drinking, they're eating, they're driving, enjoying their life outside their work, or going to work, or going home. They're flirting, they're playing, they're helping each other, or plotting against each other, or fighting over yogurts and lost keys and text punctuation. They're sweating their life to earn their food, trying to have friends, trying to be someone somewhat important in their own life by doing something somewhat meaningful with some people somewhat interesting. They're over there doing their stuff, and us?"

The woman opens widely her arms, as to gather the attention.

"What about us? What is us doing? Look at us!" 

"This!—" She points at the study, with the giant corkboard covered in papers, notes, photos, pinned with a string maze of death.

"This is us! It's you, it's me, and it doesn't make sense. We've been chasing ghosts around the globe for five years, now! You told me it was a mystery, that there were clues and tracks and patterns, and I really want to believe you, I wanted to believe you, I thought I believed you, but... I mean, what are we doing here? Where are the clues, where are the tracks? People go missing all the time, it's sad but it's true! Accidents happen on a daily basis! I mean, have you read this one? « Train derails after tree falls on the rails for no reason. » Are you kidding me? How's that not an accident? I don't know what's happening in that head of yours, what you see, what you know, what you think! I've been following you around, as you were running around in circles looking at papers and news like it was a code left by some invisible mastermind. You think you're playing detective, but from here it just looks like... like... What the fuck Shinichi! I'm..."

She lets herself fall on the cold concrete.

"I'm tired."

The man sips on his tea, staring at the city of lights.

"It was Ran."

The woman looks up.

"On the phone," he repeats. "It was Ran."

She gets up.

"What? But..." "—Yes. I know."

The two people stare up at the starry sky.

"It's probably a prank," she says.

"It was her voice, I can tell. Her voice as it was twenty years ago. There's no mistaking it, it was her speaking. Now, how can this be possible, when she's not around to speak anymore?"

"Some sort of recording?"

"I have no idea when or how whoever 'pranked' me recorded this or found this recording, but here's what I can say for sure. They needed to know when I was at the mall, at the desk. What does that mean?"

"They had to be close by?"

"Either that, or have access to the security cams. They also were someone who knows who I am and who I was."

"See, this feels like clues and tracks."

The man chuckles. "Chasing ghosts is always easier than you'd think. Let's go back to the mall tomorrow."

The woman picks up the mugs. "Well, then. Off to bed. And brush your teeth, please. You smell like a coffee addict."


	16. Rules

Everything follows rules.

It has been the case for centuries and millennia. There are laws to this universe, and nothing can break them. If something appears to do so, it means you have the wrong rules in mind.

Once people called electricity a fairy. Once thunder was the wrath of a god. Once drawing was thought to be a soul-binding spell. Drug induced hallucinations were divine messages. Man was thought to be made of clay.

If you were to take the train, and end up thirty-seven years in the future, millions of kilometers away from where you stood just before, and if you were oblivious to any possible mean of teleportation or time travel, then of course you would call it witchcraft, wizardry, or at the very least « magic. »

 _Impossible._

Not Mitsuhiko Tsuburaya. Mitsuhiko has always been the scientific mind. Curious and open, but scientific. He grew up to sayings preaching the trust of facts and evidence. 

Nothing is true, but the one thing you can not eliminate as impossible.

Here is the conundrum: you are conscious in place A, blink, and end up in place B. In place B, people tell you it is 40 years later. Instant transportation is improbable in itself, but add to that the time travel? It sounds like it's impossible. What remains? A setup? A stage? A dream?

The dream can be eliminated. As Mitsuhiko knows, you can always trust pain, and the pain is real.

Now, the stage setup is easy to confirm: just gotta open the door.

Problem is: what if it's not?

Opening the door is easy. But, in the odd chance that it really does lead to space, it would mean not only the death of Mitsuhiko, but the death of six other people. Six very important people on a mission for mankind.

What are the odds?

Is the risk worth taking?

This very question has been looping around in Mitsuhiko's mind for two weeks now. Every day he's decided to wait and see, gather more evidence, gather more facts. If he knows anything, it's to not be rash. He's made many a mistake in his youth, and that has taught him that, in many cases, the more you know, the better.

So far, he's not been able to see beyond the walls, read between the lines. One more week and he'd probably totally believe he's actually in space, in the future. The "shuttle" is supposed to arrive in a few hours. May that be an opening to new facts.

That is, if it's not some criminal ploy to kill him.

That would be an expansive ploy though. You'd need actors, time, all these fancy decors that seem to function like actual pieces of technology, and also dysfunction like pieces of technology. That's not counting that one time when two people went out to repair a damaged panel after a minor collision with a bit of debris and you could see them out the window.

Everything looks and feels like it's actually space.

The strange thing is, — well, beside the weird flying imp — the shuttle is nowhere in sight. It's arriving in thirty minutes now, it should be visible somewhere. If not by eye, on the scanners. The others are not worried in the slightest.

"What's up with the invisible shuttle?" he asks his _daughter_ , in english.

She looks up from her work. "Invisible?"

"It's supposed to be here in thirty minutes, you said. Yet I don't see it anywhere on the scanners."

The Russian woman, who's working on a tablet not far, turns her head and answers him.

"That's because it's not here yet. It's not invisible, it's just not in scanning range."

"Is it late?" he worries.

"No," Akemi answers. "It's gonna be here."

Mitsuhiko is confused. What does this mean? "Uhm... How fast is this shuttle?"

The two women look at him with raised eyebrows.

"Hey, err..." Yana begins. "When did you say you were from?"

"Wow. Feels weird hearing it like this," Akemi laughs.

"2017," Mitsuhiko says, unsure why it matters.

"Yeah but, when? What month?"

"November 1st..." he says, still puzzled as to why the date of his departure was relevant.

They instantly facepalm, both of them. Akemi chuckles.

"We totally missed that one very important thing."

"It's become history by now, so of course we wouldn't remember the exact date."

"I've always sucked at history!"

Mitsuhiko is looking at them exchanging giggles, confused and lost. What thing? What date? As he asks them, they stop and turn to him.

"In 2017, December... 20th? 21st? Around that time, the world changed," Akemi explains.  
"Big time!" Yana adds.

"Okay, so I forgot the details, but, uhm... there was this big explosion, and..."

"...and when they discovered what caused it, it broke science."  
"We have short-range teleportation and are approaching faster-than-light space travel."

"Well we're working on that."  
"The reports we've sent to Earth actually arrived there in mere seconds."

"It's all normal and given to us, so it feels strange meeting someone who doesn't know."

"The shuttle has left Earth twelve minutes ago. It's gonna be on the radars in about two minutes."

"It's still expansive as hell, though, so that's why we don't have it come every other day either."

This is a lot to process. Not in terms of information, but in terms of words. They're speaking really fast, saying a buck load of things that need processing.

Teleportation? FTL?

What was that about an explosion?

Everything follows rules. There are laws to this universe. If one appears to be broken, then it was never a law in the first place.

Is the light speed ceiling rule a fake one? Or is this whole thing a lie?

It all seemed strangely possible, up until now. And now... right now... it's simply impossible. It must be untrue.

Then the truth is...

Mitsuhiko's legs and arms activate. He jumps and climbs to the airlock, to the door to the outside. The door to get out of this nonsensical nightmare. The panel is on the right, all it needs is the code and a button press. Code was 2319 last time he saw it. He inputs it, and—

...

... and...

Of course he couldn't.

It's still nagging at him, in the back of his mind.

 _What if it's true?_

...

...

He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and presses the button.

There's no way.

The door opens and he enters the buffer chamber.

He's getting out, and figuring out where he is. Is he in some old warehouse rehabilitated as a whole decor? Where would that be? What would the exits be? Is he actually in a lab?

The door closes.

Okay, first things first. Getting out.

When the door opens without there being any sort of depressurization, his heart took a leap. He leaves a sigh of relief. He was right! There's air outside and he's still on earth some—

 _Wait, what about the low gravity?_

Before he could think about an answer, the door opens fully and before him stands a man, wearing the same kind of tight synthetic suit that the others lent him. Shoulder logo says JAXA ... Japan?! The man sure looks Japanese. He is holding a big crate with a bunch of logos and words of various languages on it.

"Oh, Doctor Tsuburaya," he says. "I... I see you were expecting us."

Mitsuhiko stays silent. What could he say? There is a shuttle docked to the station.

An actual shuttle.

Docked to an actual station.

In space.

...

"Well, we're going to empty the cargo. You can get inside, if you want."

The man goes past him with his crate. A few other people come with crates to unload. Each nods to him with an English "hello."

The Japanese man comes back with an empty crate. "I'm surprised, though," he says to Mitsuhiko. "We arrived early without much notice... I can't imagine what would happen to you had we taken a few more seconds to dock!"

Mitsuhiko could, however.

Slowly, softly, he crawls inside the shuttle, his eyes, legs, and arms working for him to find a seat to buckle in.

There is no more impossible to rule out.

The facts are there. Right there.

It's true.

The rules were wrong.

 _What are the new rules?_


	17. NOTICE: Discontinued

Good evening, dear readers

*tips hat*

I am sad to announce you that this fanfiction is getting discontinued.

It is not an indefinite hiatus, it is a legitimate abandon of this story _**as a fanfiction.**_

* * *

I am currently in the process of rewriting it from scratch as its own novel.

The completed work will be available somewhere, at some point, I don't know.

Will keep you posted here if I think about it. If I don't, then I'll most likely tweet about it. Check Oddwel if you feel like it.

* * *

*tips hat*

On that note,

*walks out the room, leaving the room open*


End file.
